


All We've Ever Needed

by tearsofachilles



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Established Relationship, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter in Love, Hannibal is a simp, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mention of Molly/Will Graham, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Psychopaths In Love, Romantic Fluff, Will Graham Loves Dogs, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba, Will and hannibal find a puppy, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearsofachilles/pseuds/tearsofachilles
Summary: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are still in hiding, in a small beachfront cottage; they take long walks along the shore, Will fishes, and they love each other deeply. Will finds a wounded dog, and begs Hannibal to let them keep it.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 97
Collections: hannibal (tv)





	All We've Ever Needed

The past few weeks had been bliss. Walking on the beach, drinking in the fresh salt air, Will felt like a new man. He wasn't quite strong enough yet to swim; the injuries he had sustained from the fall had weakened him considerably. A few cracked ribs, and, he had come to find, a long gash stretching along his left arm, presumably from a rock hidden beneath the waves.  
Will remembered falling, clutching at Hannibal's shirt, and, for a brief moment, pressed against the man's chest, he felt secure, and then, nothingness.

"You lost consciousness just as we hit the water," Hannibal had later told him, "it was all I could do to keep your head above the waves."

Will had felt the slightest twinge of guilt upon hearing this. After dragging Hannibal to the brink of death, he had still risked his own life to save Will's.  
Is that love? Will, wondered to himself. Putting another person's life before your own... 

He knew Hannibal loved him. This, his lover had whispered between sweet kisses, as they lay together, watching the sun set in golden hues, Hannibal's firm, gentle hands tenderly stroking Will's fingers with the same grace and dexterity he used to draw music from his harpsichord. "No one but you understands me in this way, Will," he had said, pulling his lips away for a fraction of a moment, to gaze into Will's eyes; a look that would have made Will collapse, had they not already been horizontal. "And there is no greater love than that which I feel for you."

Will couldn't help but believe, for he himself felt much the same; when he was with Hannibal, nothing else seemed to matter. The world made sense. And though he would never give Hannibal the satisfaction of telling him this, when they were parted, his only thoughts were of pining, for his lover's hands—on his cheeks, in his hair, trailing down his chest.

Although he wasn't well enough to swim, Will still was able to lift a fishing pole. In this way, he sat alone on the rocky shoreline, having crept silently from bed some hours previously, pole in hand, thoughts consumed with Hannibal. How he loved that man. The way his hair sprawled every which way in the mornings. The way he would plant soft, bleary eyed kisses on Will's nose, and burrow his head into his chest. Stupidly in love. 

He felt a tug on his line—not too powerful. He began toying with the fish, carefully playing it towards shore, letting it wriggle, quickly reeling in, and then—the tension in his line broke. Gone. 

"It's a shame. You almost had that one." Will had been so lost in thought he hadn't heard Hannibal's barefoot approach. 

It had been strange the first time Will had seen him in a loose button down and shorts, apparel appropriate for a beach, of course, and not unbecoming, but foreign on the man of immaculately tailored suits. Now however, it seemed natural; Hannibal wore it well, white shirt buttoned only halfway, spilling open lazily, and crisp white shorts, finished with a leather belt. 

"Why don't you come back for breakfast," Hannibal suggested, wrapping both arms around Will's torso from behind, and nuzzling his face into the crook of his shoulder, "It's nearly noon."

My, it had gotten late. Noon is late for breakfast, he wanted to say, but he knew how Hannibal hated to skip a meal. Instead, Will let him intertwine their hands and lead him up the beach towards their small, dilapidated cottage. 

It looked no better on the inside than out, but Hannibal had spent hours scrubbing down every surface within the place, and had put up dainty white curtains in the windows. 

Hannibal set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. God, he hadn't realized how hungry he was. Between wolfing down mouthfuls, he managed to squeeze a quiet "thanks". 

Hannibal watched him eat with a delicate smile.  
"You would starve without me, Will," he chuckled, "in perhaps more ways than one.  
Will kicked at his legs under the table, "oh, shut up." Although, try as he might, he couldn't keep a grin from spreading across his face. 

After Will had finished his eggs, and Hannibal had cleared the dishes, they set out for a stroll along the beach. The sea breeze tousled their hair, and brushed away the sand from their legs. In the tranquility, Will found his mind wandering. To Molly. Walter. The family he had left behind. He missed them, but in the way one misses an exotic location travelled on a long gone vacation—pleasant, peaceful, but not meant to endure. It brought him a faint sense of guilt. Knowing that he was happy while they mourned his disappearance. He disliked depriving Walter of yet another father figure. Was it right to abandon them like this? 

Perhaps seeing something of his thoughts reflected on Will's face, Hannibal slowed, and caught Will's hands, drawing him close.  
"It had to be, Will. Otherwise, our life would be one of fear, imprisonment. Nothing good would have come," he paused, hesitant, searching Will's face, "We make our own families."

Will nodded. He was right. The FBI would be searching for them; probably still are, and here, they were far away from it all.

Something in the distance wailed, startling him. It sounded like a wounded animal. God, it was a wretched sound. If there was one thing Will couldn't bear, it was an animal in pain. The thing cried out again, and Will took off hastily down the beach, kicking up sand. The sound grew closer. To his right, there was a small patch of scrub grass. There. 

Vaguely aware that Hannibal had followed him, and was now standing silently at his side, Will ventured into the grass, paying no mind to the thorns ripping at his clothes. The crying was feet away now.  
Carefully brushing aside clumps of tall grass, he continued his search, until a loud yowl brought him to the exact location of the animal. 

Buried in the scrub, a small, muddied dog, trapped by a large bramble. Any move it made elicited a painful shriek. Its paws were bloodied, and its muzzle cut. 

Immediately, Will dropped to the ground and began untangling the poor thing from its thorny prison, not caring in the slightest about muddying his clothes.  
Hannibal looked on, warily. Given Will's predisposition to taking in strays, he was no doubt slightly concerned; they could carry any number of nasty diseases. Will didn't care about this though. 

Finally releasing the dog, he lifted it, and held it gently in his arms. It was whimpering and trembling, although no longer crying out in pain. 

"There little guy," Will cooed, "you're alright now."

They walked slowly back to the cottage, Will still cradling the pup like a newborn baby.  
Hannibal drew a bathtub full of warm, soapy water, and Will set to work scrubbing the dirt out of its fur, horribly matted and saturated with what looked like weeks worth of grime.

"He can't be more than 4 months," Will estimated, "poor little guy must've been abandoned."

Hannibal must have known what was coming next because he let out a long sigh, "I suppose you're going to want him to have a home with us."

Will smiled; Hannibal knew him so well. Nothing would please him more than to take this dog in. His old habit had not been fulfilled as of late, and he sorely missed having a pet. 

"He's got nowhere else to go. Look at that little face," Will turned the dog towards Hannibal, and he saw the man's expression soften slightly. Something almost akin to a smile.  
"He just wants to be loved," Will pleaded, splashing the puppy's feet gently up and down in the water.

"Oh, fine," Hannibal finally exclaimed, unable go say no to Will's pleas, "But it's not sleeping in our bed."  
Will grinned.  
"Good enough for me."  
As he turned back to scrubbing the newest member of their household, he realized Hannibal had been right, earlier on the beach; we do make our own families. And here, he and Hannibal, in this new life they had created for themselves, had each other. That was enough.


End file.
